


Quiet Talks and Troubled Dreams

by sanerontheinside



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: ANYWAY for the actual story um, Clone Wars, General Jinn, I borrowed, It's a lovely fic I recommend, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, ObiQui, PTSD, Slavery mention, TINDD AU, Though I Never Dared Dream, War, and this little ficling was written for her birthday :), as in these two haven't talked about things yet, backing up my tumblr material basically, is vaguely threatening, it also springboards from puns' reply to my prompt on tumblr, light fluff, punsbulletsandpointythings', quiobi, so there are a couple of additional links in the notes, sorry I keep getting sidetracked here, sorta - Freeform, there's a bit of alcohol but tbh I'm not sure they even got around to drinking it?, yes there is also a very large cat it just is it's not even mine but I love it and it purrs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanerontheinside/pseuds/sanerontheinside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sinker was complaining about his General again, which Obi-Wan privately found hilarious. But even by Qui-Gon’s standards, this was getting to be more than a little reckless. ‘Disappeared for two months into a slavers’ camp’ was a harrowing report to hear, to say the least.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Talks and Troubled Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PunsBulletsAndPointyThings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Though I Never Dared Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109065) by [PunsBulletsAndPointyThings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/pseuds/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings). 



> Initially inspired by  this response from PunsBulletsAndPointyThings to my prompt on tumblr, I decided I wanted to play around with an au where Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon don’t really get together until Clone Wars (why I didn’t think that would be angst I don’t know). I borrowed Puns' TINDD AU. 
> 
> It turns out I have a lot of feelings about the sanity of someone deciding to send Qui-Gon into a war. (Yeah. Go you. Well done you. Very good idea Council. How dare.)

* * *

 

 _“Did you know General Jinn TAUGHT General Kenobi?”_  
_There is a long pause, as the three all stare at Sinker, Rex and Cody with dawning looks of horror and comprehension._  
_“Oh no,” Rex breathes._  
_“Fuck,” Cody swears._  
_Sinker just nods, and downs the glance the bartender gives him. “Fucking got sold into slavery. On purpose. Without telling us. For two months,” he growls. “And then, he comes back with three kids, four adults, and a cat the size a small mountain, all of whom still haven’t stopped following him around.”_  
_He downs his second drink._  
_The others stare.  
_ _Wolffe breaks the silence. “You poor fucker.”_

\- [punsbulletsandpointythings](http://punsbulletsandpointythings.tumblr.com/), original post [here](http://punsbulletsandpointythings.tumblr.com/post/145542951376/suddenly-have-a-need-for-fic-of-qui-gon-and-his)

 

* * *

  

Sinker was complaining about his General again, which Obi-Wan privately found hilarious. But even by Qui-Gon’s standards, this was getting to be more than a little reckless. ‘Disappeared for two months into a slavers’ camp’ was a harrowing report to hear, to say the least.

When he showed up on Qui-Gon’s doorstep, bottle in hand, his former Master greeted him with a look of surprise, but stepped aside to let him in. The large cat lying curled up at the foot of his bunk raised its head lazily, sniffed, then lowered it, signalling acceptance of the intruder, but Qui-Gon was a slightly different matter. He was warily still, eyeing Obi-Wan like he might be about to set off a thermal detonator. And not in any immediately obvious way, either - that was the rub. He’d trained his apprentice well, and the Negotiator was liable to sneak a trap on him.

Obi-Wan barely suppressed a sigh. That tension in his former Master’s frame was exactly what he didn’t want to be the cause of. He didn’t want to force an explanation, or anything worse, for that matter. Instead he held out the bottle for Qui-Gon’s inspection - ‘I come in peace’ writ in every gesture.

Qui-Gon arched an appreciative but curious eyebrow. “Thought you hated wine,” he said.

“I’ll suffer it,” Obi-Wan mock-grumbled back at him through a grin.

“Probably.” Qui-Gon agreed with a faint smile, not at all surprised by the sentiment. Obi-Wan’s opinion of wine fell just shy of disgust. But though the faces he sometimes failed to hide were quite amusing, it seemed Qui-Gon wasn’t keen on the wine tonight either. “No need for you to be poisoning yourself with that, when I have this -”

Apparently his Master still had more than a few tricks up his sleeve: seemingly out of thin air he produced a bottle of Alderaanian brandy. Obi-Wan stared blankly at the bottle, then looked up, question clear in his eyes.

“I was saving it for some sort of happy occasion, or for when you really needed it, but since you came to me first I suppose there’s no harm in starting now.”

Obi-Wan blinked. He wanted to say it was a happy enough occasion that Qui-Gon was here, alive, and in front of him. Instead he found himself nudged into a seat on Qui-Gon’s bunk by the cat. He collapsed with almost a yelp, and stared at the giant pantherine beast that proceeded to lay its head in his lap and purr - loudly. Like a starfighter engine.

To his surprise and delight, Qui-Gon laughed. It was a quiet, war-torn laugh, but his face lit up and his eyes crinkled, even if it didn’t quite erase the dark circles. “Behind the ears, don’t scratch too hard. He prefers gentle rubbing. Then, if you’re feeling more adventurous, you can try scratching - middle of the head, and then the neck,” he instructed, turning to find a pair of glasses for them. Well - not glasses. A pair of well-used mugs. Qui-Gon had an absurd moment of satisfaction for choosing brandy over wine - something about wine in mugs suddenly struck him as jarring. Uncivilised, as Obi-Wan might have said.

“No, thank you,” Obi-Wan replied airily, watching him more than the cat. “If I make a mistake here, I might just lose a hand.”

“Doubtful. He seems to like you.”

Obi-Wan gave in and rubbed at the ears all the same, because in truth the velvet fur was irresistible. “So exactly how did Mace thank you for holding against the blockade that your men sent the 91st back to him covered in purple paint?”

Qui-Gon sputtered, freezing in the act of holding out a mug to Obi-Wan. “And how, may I ask, do you know about that?”

“I saw them. Positively lurid colour, that. It _glows,_ Qui-Gon,” he grinned.  

General Jinn - tall, stern, magnetic - made a brief appearance as Qui-Gon drew to his full height and fixed the man before him a cool glare, but his resolve did last long against dancing blue-green eyes. He sighed, giving in as he sank into a seat at his terminal. “Apparently he thought he’d be able to break through without their help.”

“And the 59th had other ideas.”

“He ordered them to stand down.” Qui-Gon shrugged. “Sinker pleaded a case of faulty data signal.”

“They are about as cooperative as their General, then,” Obi-Wan teased.

That got a faint rise out of his former Master. “Indeed, I am often told the morale and bearing of the men is a true reflection of their commanding officer. One might be tempted to examine the state of your battalion in order to draw conclusions about you, Master Kenobi.”

“And what conclusions have you drawn, Master?” Obi-Wan asked dryly, the air of mock offence utterly spoiled by the mirth still sparking in his eyes.

Qui-Gon’s annoyed expression melted. He dropped his gaze, his voice suspiciously soft as he replied, “Only that you are completely beyond reproach.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze sharpened. He couldn’t say what it was he saw in Qui-Gon’s expression - quiet grief, maybe something wistful - but it made his heart ache. The large cat seemed to sense the shift in mood and moved to curl at Qui-Gon’s feet instead, and Obi-Wan passed a gentle hand over the retreating curve of its spine. “I’ll have to thank Cody for keeping my good name,” he remarked. “The 501st, now - bunch of crazy bastards -”

That, at least, drew a soft laugh from his Master.

Qui-Gon sat, swirling his brandy - the action still elegant, in spite of the mug. Obi-Wan watched, studying every finger, seeing the tension in every slightest movement.

“Did you see her?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Qui-Gon looked up, and sighed with an odd mixture of irritation and relief. “How did you guess?”

“We’ve known for months that she wanted to defect, and that she was somewhere on this planet, leading her own rebellion.” Obi-Wan let out a quiet chuckle. “Padmé’s friends and mentors are truly remarkable, and Senator Bonteri is no exception.”

Again that weary, fleeting smile - _gods, what had happened there?_ Qui-Gon sat in thoughtful silence still, but even if he refused to speak of it, Obi-Wan was not about to leave. He was, however, about to reassure Qui-Gon when the older man stirred again and finally spoke.

“She’s alive. At least, last I saw her, she was alive. Now that the blockade is broken and the Republic holds the planet, it seems she has a chance.”

“She chose to stay, then?”

Qui-Gon nodded, a sudden tightness in his throat. “Yes.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “She was in the slavers’ camp?” he asked tentatively.

Qui-Gon’s eyes closed, and he took in a slow breath, visibly clinging to the sense of warmth and calm in the room. Brandy in one hand. A large cat breathing steadily at his feet, purring in gentle vibrations. Obi-Wan, sitting near enough to reach out to and touch, the brilliant ( _reckless,_ his mind supplied) fire he so often saw in battle now lying carefully banked. “Her son died in that camp. He was ill when I found them, and she stayed until - until it was over.”

He caught the faintest tremor in the large hand. “Oh, Qui-Gon -”

Obi-Wan rose to his feet - hurriedly, but deliberately, so as not to startle the cat. In fact, the feline obligingly uncurled and moved out of the way far enough to allow him to take the mug from his Master and set it aside, coax him out of the seat and across the narrow space to sit on his bunk. Qui-Gon barely had enough in him to rise. The feline proved an invaluable co-conspirator, bumping its head against the Jedi’s leg until he finally gave in. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms tightly around him and scooted back to lean against the wall, running a soothing hand over long greying hair.

The shaking did not subside, at first. If anything, it was as though the ghosts had been pulled into the room. He was cold, so cold.

“She felt she could accomplish more leading a rebellion than joining the Republic. And, frankly, I am tempted to agree,” Qui-Gon said, at length, tone more biting and acidic than Obi-Wan ever remembered hearing.

The weight of the war was inescapable. Inwardly, Obi-Wan swore - at the Senate, at the Council, and whoever had forgotten that the Jedi were peacekeepers, not warriors. No one had ever been trained for this. And the Senate was slowly choking them, taking away any volition they had - though of course, it was only most noticeable now, when there was so little left to erode.

He saved an especially bitter vein for anyone who’d ever had the brilliant idea to send Qui-Gon out into the thick of so much death and terror without thought for how it would tear him apart - so fervent, this disdain, that it brought a metallic taste to his tongue and a sting to his eyes.

Aloud, he sighed softly over Qui-Gon’s ear. “You know, the more I come to know of our Republic and our Council at the very worst of times, the more I find that your former Master was quite correct - in all his judgements. The only trouble there is that he’s a Sith.”

A hoarse laugh escaped his Master. “Obi-Wan, I can hear that gods-awful diatribe you’ve got in your head, all twenty-six of the finest Huttese curses upon Palpatine’s mother and the choice Weequay clicks in regards to Mas Amedda’s arse. And I’ve heard quite a lot directed at the Council in the past, but really, you’ve just managed to - by far - outstrip the worst of it. And a sitting member, too.”

Obi-Wan grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Master.” He had not meant to transmit that.

“No-no, it’s quite reassuring to hear from someone else,” he admitted, extricating himself partially from Obi-Wan’s hold and leaning back against the wall. Indeed, the tremors had stopped somewhere around the third invective hurled at the Chancellor’s parentage. “So what shall we do, Padawan mine? Defect? Skewer a Sith Lord and a Sith-fuckingly inept Chancellor, then negotiate peace between the Confederacy and the Republic? Or, perhaps, join the ex-Senator Bonteri in her resistance force?”

“Qui!” Obi-Wan laughed and shook his head. “If we survived it, we’d never last a minute negotiating between frightened and bullheaded parties.”

“We’ve handled worse,” Qui-Gon shrugged, though the crooked smile said he knew better.

“We have not,” Obi-Wan retorted sharply. “No: it’s either Naboo, or Alderaan. We join Bail or Padmé, help them organise a relief effort wherever it is needed. The Senate and the Council can go stick their collective heads into a garbage incinerator.”

He came to a stop, brought up short by the completely undefinable expression on Qui-Gon’s face.

“Qui?”

There was a shine to his eyes that now looked a deeper blue than Obi-Wan had seen in a long time. “Gods, you’d do it, wouldn’t you? You’d walk away from everything, abandon duty, leave Anakin and Ahsoka to find their own way - for me. To spare me all of this -” He waved his hand vaguely, weakly, as if any gesture were not futile enough to encompass the war, the failing Republic, the broken faith in every tenet they’d ever held dear.

Obi-Wan felt a chill of foreboding run up his back. “You’d never want that, nor would you ever ask me for it. And I couldn’t leave Anakin or Ahsoka - not as his Master, not as her Grandmaster. I certainly don’t feel much of a General. But if you asked me to? I would leave the Order in a heartbeat, Qui, Anakin and Ahsoka in tow.”

Qui-Gon sat still for a moment, eyes closing under Obi-Wan’s intense gaze. He took a slow, measured breath, as if to meditate. Turning over the words in his mind, savouring their importance. Obi-Wan had only ever made that vow to two people - to Satine, many years ago, and to Anakin in perhaps the most difficult time of his apprenticeship, and now he offered that same devotion to his former Master.

Then the blue eyes opened, a deep calm reflected in them. “Obi-Wan, if you ever wish to leave, if ever you decide it would be for the best - know that I will go with you.”

Obi-Wan was fairly certain he’d missed a breath somewhere. “You’d better,” he nearly growled, and pulled Qui-Gon to him in a tight embrace. “Not letting you go wandering off like that again.”

There was a breathless, stuttering laugh against his shoulder. “No plans to.” 

“But then, we never plan these things,” Obi-Wan agreed with a sigh.

“Hmm,” Qui-Gon hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps if we bothered to plan it, we’d end up in less trouble.”

“Naboo, relief effort. Anakin and Ahsoka, gagged and bound if necessary. There. Planned.”

There was a faint snort near Obi-Wan’s ear. “Done.”

They held each other for an unmeasured length of time, until exhaustion finally caught up to them. Obi-Wan shifted until he got Qui-Gon to rest horizontally, shaking his head at the sight of his feet hanging off the edge, and rose. Here he was brought to a halt very quickly by a soft sound of loss behind him and a menacing growl from the feline he’d completely forgotten, resting at the foot of the data terminal.

“Damn,” he muttered, more aggrieved by the near-whimper that had escaped the sleeping man than by the loyal cat. “Fine, just let me take off his boots.”

The cat rose menacingly - to do no more than curl up at the foot of the bed. Obi-Wan shook his head, but couldn’t help a smile - the loyalty of Qui-Gon’s pathetic lifeforms never failed to impress him. He quickly unbuckled and slipped the boots off his Master’s feet, then his own, and padded back to the bunk. He stopped for a moment to smooth a hand over the furrowed brow, smiling as the expression melted into calm. Then he waved off the lights and curled up beside his former Master, resting a reassuring arm across his chest, and gave in to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, this au is utterly wonderful, and I made an au of an au in which everyone is happy and Palpatine dies. If you're curious, it [ here ](http://sanerontheinside.tumblr.com/post/146612683214/qui-gonobi-wan-all-that-weve-lost), a response to a tumblr prompt for 'that fic I won't write' that got out of hand. And if you send me a lot of asks, I may even write it. XD 
> 
> *looks back at notes and summary* welp I guess I've linked just about everything and a couple things more than once.


End file.
